And when I get to Baltimore gonna draw me out a heavy sigh,
And when she sees the mess I'm in, gonna hang me out to dry;
Tempers bay when soft she whispers, the sleeping dogs all lie,
So I'm going back to Baltimore, tear drops in my eye.

She cook fine beans and cornbread mash, and her kettle's always on the boil,
Her garden soothes when first I run my fingers through her soil;
If I break down, as I am p___e to, I know she'll change my oil,
So I'm going back to Baltimore, never more will I toil.

Circle, circle, circle, dot; she dances like the tall maypole;
She in the circle and I ain't not; Lord, make to shine my soul;
Through her kindness he will always remind me of my role,
So I'm going back to Baltimore, she gonna make me whole.

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